Sword to Ploughshare
by mxacey
Summary: Three months after the events of Skyward Sword, Skyloft has moved down to the Surface and formed a bustling village. But with the sudden reappearance of Ghirahim and a mysterious visitor coming to the village, Link finds himself tasked with a new adventure...with an unexpected companion. Zelda/Link, eventual Ghirahim/Link. Rated M for later violent content.
1. A Disturbance in Hyrule Village

Chapter 1: A Disturbance in Hyrule Village

The red autumn leaves of Faron Woods danced lazily in the air, before gracefully landing on the crisp grass or, if they were so inclined, kissing the calm water at the base of the Great Tree. The harmonious songs of cicadas were long gone, and the air began to take a chill, an augury of approaching winter. The Kikwi enjoyed a Faron devoid of bokobolins, thanks to the efforts of the goddess's chosen hero, who was stretched out on the grass, awake, though his eyes were closed.

Of all the lands of the Surface to which he journeyed, Faron was his favorite. Although the beauty of Lanayru in the distant past was admirable and a close second, Link was not fond of how artificial it felt when he activated the timeshift stones to see it, and genuinely traveling to the past was no longer an option, as remaining Gate of Time had vanished at the conclusion of the Skyloftians' journey.

A lot had happened in the three months since Link defeated Demise. Link and Zelda, of course, had chosen to live on the Surface, and, along with Groose, they had convinced the other residents of Skyloft to move down there as well. A cozy, bustling village had been constructed, and columns of smoke could be seen wafting above the tree-line, coming from the chimneys of the many homes.

Stretching his arms above his head, Link sat up and leisurely got to his feet, brushing dirt off his plain green pants and the back of his beige shirt. It was early evening, and Link figured it would be best that he head back home. If he were late for dinner _again_, he knew that Zelda would be miffed. He chuckled at the thought. In his opinion, an angry Zelda was a sight that invoked mixed feelings. The way her cheeks flushed red was adorable, but her glaring eyes spoke threats that demanded to be heeded.

Link walked back along a narrow dirt path that he was sure was the fault of his many strolls to the base of the tree. Tiny birds chirped at him from tree branches, and seemed resolute to keep their distance. Link couldn't understand why they loved Groose of all people but not him-memories of catching them in his net conveniently evading his consciousness.

From a distance, Hyrule Village looked like a collection of tiny, relatively identical wooden houses with lanterns hanging above their doors. But as Link approached, the quirks of each structure evoked the nature of its inhabitants. Strich, for example, had welded tiny metal dragonflies and butterflies to his lantern that hung next to his door, while Mallara's porch was notably unkempt. Link observed the former-demon Batreaux watering flowers that had planted next to his domicile, and when he looked up from his task, the two waved to each other.

"You should probably hurry home, Link," Batreaux smiled wearily.

"Am I that late?"

Before Batreaux could either confirm or deny the hero's question, a familiar voice cut through the air.

"Link!" Zelda's call had yet to sound aggravated; a good sign.

"Coming!" Link hollered back. He smiled at his neighbor. "Have a good night, Batreaux."

"You as well."

Link quickened his pace, and as the view of his and Zelda's house neared, he saw the young woman standing in the doorway. Backlit by the lamps in the house, her slight frame and the waving gesture of her outreached arm were accentuated. Link's lips parted, and curved up into a grin, and the hero closed the remainder of their distance with a jog. When he reached the door, he leaned down and planted a kiss on the goddess-incarnate's forehead.

"How late was I this time?"

"You're fine, Link," Zelda smiled at him in a way that had made his heart melt. "I first called five minutes ago, but that's alright. How are the woods?"

"Quiet, beautiful," Link followed Zelda into their domain, shutting the door behind them.

The house's interior was decorated simply. Shelves and cupboards in the kitchen were full of ceramic bowls and plates, as well as wooden flatware carved by Link. The dinner table had a vase full of flowers at the center of it. In the living room was a fireplace, and chairs and cushions that Zelda and Link had made together. The bedroom was adjacent to the living room, with only a wooden screen to divide the rooms, and hung prominently on the wall beside the bed was Link's Hylian Shield, received from the dragon Lanayru, and his adventure pouch underneath it.

In the kitchen, the smell of a rich, vegetable stew invigorated the air. Link specifically detected the scent of cumin.

"How was your day, Zelda?" he inquired. She gave him a sort of nervous smile, causing him to raise his eyebrow.

"I've been getting visions." She absentmindedly caressed a lock of her hair. "About a visitor coming soon. It's difficult to describe." Noticing Link's concerned face, Zelda added quickly, "While it seems serious, it didn't seem like they would be dangerous. I don't think it's anything to worry about."

Link smiled at her brightly. "Well, then, everything's alright then, right?" Zelda returned Link's gesture. Promptly she moved towards the cupboard, to grab bowls to fill with their dinner, but Link shooed her away from it: "You've already done all of the work, let me do that."

Just as Zelda sat down and Link was about to ladle dinner into their bowls, someone knocked loudly and emphatically against their door. Shortly thereafter, a voice bellowed:

"Zelda! Link!" Groose's voice had a tinge of panic to it, and the two inside only exchanged a brief glance before Link hurried to the door. Upon opening it, Link was greeted to the sight of a very tall, very concerned, red-haired man. Link hadn't seen this level of concern coming from him since...

When _he _suddenly showed up after Zelda awoke from her slumber in the back of the Sealed Temple.

"What's happened, Groose?" Link immediately tensed, his face hardening into the serious visage that adorned his features all too often during his quest.

"I was just at the temple! You know, putting flowers near Grannie's memorial, just saying hi to her," Groose started, and Link nodded once. "And just as I was about to leave, I heard a strange, sharp sound I can't describe coming from the courtyard. So, I went to investigate it." Groose paused briefly, running his fingers through his pompadour. "I couldn't believe my eyes. I saw this gigantic black sword stuck in the dirt."

Link felt his heart start pounding, and sweat form on his brow. "Was the blade...jagged?"

"Yeah. Kinda looked like diamonds." Groose looked a little puzzled, but Link knew why. Groose only had the briefest chance to see _that _sword, and he was justifiably more concerned with making sure that the beautiful blonde sitting at the table didn't fall to her death. Whereas for Link, he had a whole fight for that blade and its image to permanently leave its mark on him. He had the scars and nightmares as proof that it did.

Without hesitation, Link dashed to the bedroom, and pulled his knight's outfit from underneath the bed and his adventure pouch off the wall. After throwing the chainmail and tunic on and strapping on the pouch, he stuck his left arm through the leather strap on the back of his shield and gripped the metal handle.

"I'll be back," Link said gruffly, and briskly strode towards the door.

"Wait, I'm not letting you go by yourself!" Zelda ran after him, and tugged the sleeve of his shirt when it was in reach. The hero turned to face her.

"I'm not letting you get hurt."

"Excuse me, but you're a swordsman without a sword, and I'm a former goddess who's been practicing her magic. I _am _going with you," Zelda put her hands on her hips, and Link saw that dangerous glint in her eye. He sighed loudly.

"Fine." With that, Link walked out the door towards the temple.

"Just a minute!" Zelda yelled after him, futilely. "Ugh!" She turned to Groose, pleading, "I'm sorry, Groose, but would you please watch the soup pot? I don't know how long this is going to take and I don't want the house burning down in the meantime."

Groose smiled. "Sure thing."

Zelda ran after Link, her long hair flowing wildly behind her, calling out to her friend from over her shoulder, "Thank you! Oh, feel free to eat some as well!"

Glancing around her as she ran, Zelda saw that many of the villagers seemed to be peeking out of their windows at the hero marching towards the temple who was suddenly wearing his knight's outfit after months of disuse, and the daughter of their elder running after him. When she caught up to the brown-haired teen and began walking next to him on his right, she remarked to him in a hushed voice:

"We're making a spectacle and worrying everyone."

"I think the reappearance of Demise's sword is something to be worried about," Link replied dryly.

"I agree," Zelda brushed her hand against his, smiling gently when he turned his head her way. "But it's nothing we can't handle together, right?"

Link continued to look forward. The horizon was a soft blend of vermillion, cerise, and peach, while when he looked above where the brilliant star was disappearing, cerise melded into a vibrant plum. He could see the profile of the Goddess Statue, backlit. Behind him, he knew, the sky was a deep blue that would blacken as soon as the bright orb before him faded from sight. When he lived on Skyloft, Link could never imagine the allure the Surface possessed, and how at sunrise and sunset the sky seemed to be nothing more than the sun's canvas. A world this wondrous and precious needed to be protected.

Link outstretched his right arm, his hand searching for and then gripping Zelda's left. As he reached the door to the Sealed Temple, he squeezed her hand tightly.


	2. A Proposal

Chapter 2: A Proposal

The tall, thick stone door begrudgingly conceded to Link's shove. Its inner atmosphere was ominous—shadow lurking, encroaching throughout, the setting sun's rays warring valiantly despite losing their ground. Across the room, against the wall, was an urn—which Link knew to be empty—with blue and red irises meticulously arranged beneath it. The red and brown leaves of the Tree of Life shifted in the gentle breeze, some fluttering to the stone floor. The temple was silent, save for Link and Zelda's echoing footsteps. When the two reached the door that led to the goddess statue courtyard, Link began to push the door open; the sound of the stone door scraping against the stone tile reverberated.

Walking toward the courtyard, Link found his breath caught in his throat at the sight of the large, glistening, demonic sword protruding from the dirt. It glowed, not light, but a pitch-black darkness. Instinctively, Link moved in front of Zelda and stood his ground, however the long-haired blonde rolled her eyes and stepped past him, her hands emitting a faint glimmer. Link followed briskly.

Demise's sword was jammed in the earth at an odd angle. Surrounding the sword were copious amounts of misplaced dirt, some bits as far as a few feet away, suggesting that it had rammed into the ground at a high speed.

As the two approached the blade, it suddenly glowed brightly, causing them to stop. A harsh ring resounded from the weapon, and the figure Link dreaded to see appeared in a flurry of diamonds. He was as dark as obsidian, with white lines crossing along his right shoulder, his stomach, and down his left leg. His skin—if you could even call it that—revealed a diamond pattern, seemingly embedded in it. He leaned casually against the sword that, as Link recalled, had been pulled out of the demon's body, as if he were but a sheath.

"Ghirahim," Link hissed.

"A welcoming party comprised of the goddess and her hero, _I'm honored_," the weapon's metallic voice was laced with false sincerity. Narrowing his eyes, Link raised his shield in front of him and stepped next to Zelda.

"You are _not _welcome here," Zelda stated firmly. Ghirahim's features seemed to glimmer in response to her resolute visage.

"My, my, look who grew a backbone, and isn't crying out in fear," he chortled, earning an even fiercer glare from the goddess-incarnate.

"Demise is dead, you can't revive him," Link added to Zelda's earlier train of thought.

"It's autumn and rather chilly," the demon sword replied coolly. Link blinked, lowering his shield absentmindedly.

"_What?_"

"Oh, I thought we were stating the obvious—I thought I'd chime in." At hearing how nonchalantly Ghirahim delivered that remark, Zelda and Link turned to look at each other. They both looked perplexed. While the demon wasn't exactly friendly, his demeanor couldn't be described as threatening. He hadn't stepped towards them once since they arrived, and while Link initially thought that was just his impassive arrogance shining through, he was starting to think otherwise. The hero turned to his adversary again.

"How are you even here? I thought Fi sealed you away along with Demise."

"You not only thought incorrectly, but apparently you have a very poor memory," Ghirahim drawled, glancing at the two humans from the corner of his eye. Link frowned.

"How so?"

"Do you remember what happened _before _he was sealed?"

"We fought."

"No, _after _that, dimwit," Ghirahim snapped. Link grimaced, and Zelda raised her hands, glowing much more brilliantly than they had been earlier, in a fighting stance.

"You will not speak to Link in that manner," Zelda intoned. The sword snickered.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"I won't hesitate to kill you," Zelda said sternly. Link couldn't help but widen his eyes in shock. His Zelda, kill someone? Ghirahim, however, appeared unfazed.

"Very well," he sighed, clearly ignoring Zelda's threat. "I'll give you a little hint, then, hero." Ghirahim shifted the way he was leaning to better face the Skyloftians, and, watching intently, Link noticed that the movement appeared stiff and forced. "After Demise stood up for the final time, he stuck me in the ground." Link's eyes widened slightly, those words bringing a long-forgotten detail to the forefront of his mind. "Then what happened?"

"You disappeared," Link whispered. "It was like you dissolved into light."

"There you go."

"So, you...teleported? And you went...here?" Link blinked, and then furrowed his brow. "But that doesn't make sense. Hundreds of years and three months in the future? How did you get here?"

The sword spirit smirked and held finger up to his lips. "That's my little secret, sky child."

"More importantly," Zelda cut in, "Why are you here?" Ghirahim's lips twitched from his smirk into a smile.

"Finally, a question worth answering," the demon murmured. "Let's just say I'd rather be here than where I was."

"But why _here_, in the temple courtyard?" Zelda eyed the Triforce perched in the statue's open palms wearily for a moment, before she continued to stare at the demon. Ghirahim followed her gaze, and upon seeing the Triforce in all of its breathtaking glory, merely rolled his eyes.

"A consequence of circumstance. As you noted earlier, my Master is dead, so our 'arrangement,' as it were, is null and void. I have no desire nor intent to bring him back to the land of the living. Don't worry about your pretty little goddess artifact."

"You tried to revive him before," Link retorted.

"Yes, I _succeeded _in _reviving_ him, not _resurrecting_ him. All Hylia's initial sealing did was force him to sleep. This one, it seems, slowly killed him. I can't even sense his presence here. He's just...gone." Link wasn't entirely sure, but the way the white-haired demon breathed the word "gone" sounded somewhat unlike the matter-of-fact manner in which he had been speaking. But the goddess's chosen hero couldn't decide whether the emotion that had leaked through that word was relief or disappointment.

There was a long silence between the three. A breeze blew through, lifting and tangling Zelda's blonde hair. The sun's light was almost gone, the only remaining red patch of sky along the horizon. Everywhere else, the sky was dark blue and black, sprinkled with myriad stars, and a first quarter moon observed the inhabitants below.

"Then," Link started slowly, "are you here to avenge him?"

At this Ghirahim face contorted into a scowl, eyes clamped shut, and his fingers curled and tensed. "Do I have to explain _everything? _I grow weary of this tedious question and answer session." His eyes opened again, glaring intensely at Link. "Don't be absurd. Why the _hell _would I avenge someone to whom I no longer have an obligation?"

Link glared back. "Then, for your own sense of pride?"

A dark chuckle that didn't seem to have a hint of humor within it passed through the weapon's open lips. "Oh, that's cute. Admittedly I wish I could, but," Ghirahim stood erect and walked a few wobbly steps towards the two humans. "As you can see, I am rather...drained, at the moment. But even if I weren't, I wouldn't be able to attack you."

"Why is that?" Link replied immediately, his severe expression not faltering in the least.

"Still with the incessant questions?" Because of Ghirahim's towering height, his smug sneer impacted the hero a little more effectively than it should have, especially considering his unsteady stance. "Have you ever heard of a sword throwing itself at someone?"

"You attacked me _multiple _times, so, yeah, I suppose I have."

Ghirahim raised his palm to his forehead and laid his head on it, his fingers clutching his skull. "You're making an idiotic assumption and I don't care to explain myself to you. I'll just put it this way: As soon Demise pulled the sword out of me, and my spirit went into it, I became _locked _to the blade. That hunk of metal you see in the dirt _is _me, I'm just a representation of it like your little goddess-given guide was. Speaking of," the demon's expression shifted, grinning so widely that his unnaturally white and sharp teeth were visible. "I see that you have no sword. Forced to give her up? More humorous still, you thought you were going to fight me and you came with nothing but a shield, your implausibly spacious pouches, and a novice at magic?"

Zelda huffed at the insult, but Link tried to ignore the mocking to follow his train of thought. "Yes, I don't have a sword. Your point?"

"Don't you think you need one?"

"Is that an _offer?_" Link balked.

"How blunt do I have to be with you?"

"No, I don't need one," Link said through clenched teeth. "The bokobolins are gone now, and it's peaceful."

Ghirahim cocked his head at that comment, and his smile made Link's blood run cold. "That is rich, sky child. Peace never lasts."

Link ignored Ghirahim's platitude. "Why _me_?"

"I'd rather choose the idiot who is going to be my new Master than have some lout stumble upon me years from now, that's all." As Link glowered, Ghirahim strode back to the sword. With a sarcastic bow to Link, he disappeared back into the blade.

"Link," Zelda whispered, tugging on her hero's tunic. When Link turned to look, he saw that her hands were no longer channeling the magic for a potential attack.

"What is it?" Link's features softened when he looked at her—so strong, wise, and sweet.

"I think you should accept his offer."

"What?" Link yelped, fully turning his body to face her. Her gaze did not waver, and neither did her mien. "Why?"

"It's strange, but," Zelda looked down and to the side, searching, "he doesn't seem to be lying when he says he won't attack us." The young woman's eyes returned to regard her lover's. "Also, while he claims he has no interest in the Triforce, it's too risky to leave him here."

Link sighed, and clasped Zelda's hand. "I suppose you're right. I trust you." Leaning over, Link brushed his lips against Zelda's and lightly kissed her. He held the kiss for a few, fleeting seconds, and pulled away. With a blush decorating her cheeks, Zelda smiled.

Link advanced towards the massive weapon, and muttered to himself when he stood next to it and found that the blade, even when partially stuck in the ground, _matched _his height. He hesitantly, and awkwardly, reached up to grip the hilt with both hands. Upon doing this, the blade began to glow and change. It retained its general shape and appearance: the blade that looked like three diamonds laid vertically, point-to-point, with spikes jutting out of the horizontal points of the diamonds; the cross-guard like bat wings; and the inverted Triforce gracing the base of the blade. But it shrank, as if recognizing that it could not be adequately handled by the one grasping it. Now with the hilt reaching his waist, Link had the proper leverage to unearth Demise's—apparently—former ally. The brown-haired hero braced himself and yanked out the sword with only a little strain. The minor amount of struggle he put forth to draw the blade did not go unnoticed by its inhabitant.

"_Gotten a little rusty, have we, hero?_" Ghirahim's smooth voice, although sounding tired, tsked in his mind. "_Perhaps we should get you back into shape, hmm?_" Link scowled.

Strapping his shield on his back and his new sword firmly clutched in his dominant hand, Link walked back over to Zelda, and she offered her hand to him. Link's face softened into a small smile, gladly accepting her affectionate gesture.

His back to the goddess statue, Link left the most sacred area of the Sealed Temple with Zelda in his left hand, and Ghirahim in his right.


	3. His Distracting Voice

Chapter 3: His Distracting Voice

Groose got up from his seat at the dining room table at hearing the door to Link and Zelda's home calmly creak open. At seeing Zelda stroll in, looking mildly wary but otherwise fine, the red-head greeted her: "Welcome back! Everything's okay, then?" The blonde's worried visage fell into a relaxed smile and she nodded.

"Thank you for watching the house, Groose," Zelda acknowledged warmly. Groose was about to respond to her, likely to dismiss what he had done as "no big deal," when Link strode in. The brunet's brow was furrowed and his knuckles were white from the vice grip he maintained on the sword's hilt. The larger male blinked a few times.

"You guys brought it back?"

"We had little choice," Zelda turned her head in Link's direction, her eyes oozing with sympathy. Groose just tilted his head.

"How come?"

"An _old friend _came back to visit," Link seethed. The hero's ear twitched and he suddenly tensed. He grit his teeth. "I don't _care _what you find rude."

"But I didn't—" Groose was stopped by Zelda placing her hand against his arm.

"He's not talking to you. I'm sorry, we'll explain tomorrow," Zelda reassured him. He nodded. "We need to rest. Thank you again for your help tonight."

"Hey, no problem," Groose grinned, heading towards the door. "You two take it easy—I'll see you tomorrow!" The door clicked softly behind him, and a sigh escaped Zelda's lips once they were mostly alone. Zelda inspected the kitchen briefly, noting a recently used bowl and spoon in the sink, and the soup pot was still warm. Grabbing another ceramic bowl from the cupboard, Zelda began to ladle the pleasantly aromatic concoction into it. She set the bowl—made from terra-cotta and decorated simply with a green, jagged line—on the table, along with a spoon. She grabbed the other bowl left next to the pot and began to fill it for herself.

"We need to eat, Link, you should sit down," Zelda requested softly, sitting at the table once she finishing filling her bowl. She paused, seeing that Link hadn't moved and appeared engrossed in something. "Link?"

That call, however, seemed to reach the hero, who startled and loosened his tight grip. "What?" The young man seemed genuinely confused.

"He's talking to you, isn't he?" Although Zelda smiled when she said this, her eyes were frowning. Link nodded.

"It's...distracting," Link grumbled. "And disorienting." Having his attention, Zelda gestured to the empty seat, and Link complied by leaning the dark blade against the wall in a far corner, and sitting down to eat.

"What is he saying?" Zelda held her spoon in front of her lips and blew on it. She happened to ask her question just as Link was taking a bite, so he quickly downed it to reply.

"Just...nothing serious, really," Link mused. "Snide comments, direct insults..." Link trailed off, and then added under his breath, "and stupid flirtatious remarks."

Zelda choked on the food she had just been attempting to swallow, and after a minor fit of coughing, managed to get out an incredulous "What?!"

"It really is nothing serious!" Link insisted. "He's always been like that with me, always going on about our 'red thread of fate.'"

Zelda blushed at that particular phrasing. It was an old legend that the gods would tie a red string around the pinky fingers of those destined to meet romantically. Ever since her father read the legend to her as a child, Zelda had fancied that such a thread bond her and Link together. With the adventure that they both set out on thanks to her past self, and how they were living together, she thought her theory had been proven entirely. The idea that a man who had been actively trying to kill her and her beloved would feel similarly chilled her.

"Link," Zelda put her hand over Link's fist that had been resting on the table. "You know you don't have to bottle your feelings with me, right? If he ever bothers you or _anything_, you can talk to me about it. I want to listen." Link slid his hand out from under hers so that he could squeeze her hand instead. He smiled.

"I know. Thank you." Link blew on spoon full of the soup, and was about to take a bite when he laughed lightly.

"Hmm?" Zelda murmured encouragingly.

"I guess we found out who the visitor in your vision was then." He took a bite, and didn't look at her until several moments of quiet passed. She looked down at the floor from the corner of her eye, thinking hard.

"I don't think Ghirahim was the visitor my visions were warning me about," she spoke slowly. "His appearance surprised me as much as you."

"Then who's the visitor?"

Zelda again fell silent. But not before long did she perked up with that smile that melted Link's concern away.

"I don't know, but I know I'll figure it out!"

The following morning, Link awoke with a groan and dark circles under his eyes. The hero had attempted to stay awake the entire night. Although he did not find Ghirahim's verbal quips particularly threatening or worrisome, he was fearful that the blade's claim that Link was his new master was nothing more than a lie crafted so that Link would drop his guard, leaving himself and Zelda vulnerable. But all the sword spirit had done that night was, right before Link headed off to bed, utter a simple, "Good night, sky child," and then laugh when he earned a glare in response. But despite all of Link's determination, after a few hours of waiting in absolute quiet, his body refused to be denied its slumber any longer.

Link rolled out of bed, stretching. He then put on his chain mail and knight's tunic, and equipped his shield and pouches like he had the previous night. When he walked into the kitchen, he was greeted with the sight of a large pear upon the table. Underneath this breakfast fruit left for him was a note, as well as a cloth napkin. As he took a bite out of the pear, Link read the message:

Good morning, Link!

While you were sleeping in this morning, I told Groose about what happened last night, so you needn't worry about it. For now, please keep what has happened a secret—I don't want the village to stress.

I have gone off to meditate and practice my magic. I will be back later this evening at the latest.

Love,

Zelda

Link nodded upon finishing the note, and set it back down on the table. As he continued to eat his pear, he noted that the demon sword remained exactly where he had left it the previous night: in the corner of the dining room furthest from the door. Link raised his eyebrow at the blade.

"Going somewhere?" Link jumped at the voice that crooned directly behind him, and too close for comfort. He turned to see the sword spirit staring at him, grinning. Unlike the previous day, Ghirahim's stance was steady, and he towered over the human male.

"Why do you ask?" Link asked cautiously. The demon raised hand to his head as if to run his fingers through his hair or smooth it down, but the white, metallic swirl did not yield to his touch whatsoever. He sighed.

"You're dressed as if you were," he replied flatly. "Unless lounging about the house in chain mail is typical for you?" Link turned back towards the table and wiped his hands and face with the cloth napkin, throwing it back down when he was done.

"No, it's not." Link moved rapidly towards the blade in the corner and picked it up. His grip was firm as was his glare back at the sword spirit. "I _am _going out," Link started, his knuckles whitening, as the previous night, from his grasp. "But you're coming with me. I'm _not_ letting you out of my sight."

"A bold confession, hero," Ghirahim murmured, to which Link fumed. "Might I suggest, _Master_," Link flinched at the word coming not only from the demon, but slipping through his lips so disingenuously. His twitch was not overlooked by the metallic male, who only seemed to revel in it. "That loosening your clasp would not only improve your ability to wield me, but would lessen the chance of harming your lovely hands?"

Link merely glared. After a few moments of being engaged in an intense stare-off with the hero, Ghirahim sighed somewhat shakily, the expiration laced with tension.

"I know that it's difficult for your unsophisticated mind to comprehend that I don't have an ulterior motive, but it's rather tasking on me, so do try to keep up."

"If you're not planning anything, then why are you acting like you care about whether I hurt my hands or if I'm 'rusty,' like you said last night?" Link's countenance remained firm, stubbornness which only seemed to aggravate his blade further. Ghirahim narrowed his eyes at the shorter male for a few seconds, but then he began to smirk and chuckle, shaking his head slowly.

"To see the one who defeated me _and _my former master in this shape is nothing short of embarrassing," Ghirahim admitted. Link's features softened considerably for a moment because of his enemy's tone. While the cool male was still severe, Link thought he heard something almost _human_ behind that confession of embarrassment. But as soon as he considered that, he saw those cold, calculating eyes boring into him, and Link wore a resolute—though no longer irritated—expression again.

"Fine, then," Link nodded. "But if you're lying, and this all turns out to be an elaborate trick, there's a volcano in Eldin I won't hesitate to throw you into."

"Very well, Master," Ghirahim chuckled, and his spirit disappeared into the blade. Link strode towards the door, and left his home quickly.

"_I can't imagine you actually enjoy calling me 'Master.'_" Because of the nigh constant inner-chatter of the previous night, Link mentally spoke to the demon rather easily. But even when thinking rather than speaking, Link couldn't help but make his dialog sound flat. In response, Link heard a too arrogant "_hmph_" echo in his head.

"_I don't, really," _the sword's voice always sounded too silky and smooth there, amplified by the dangerously intimate the setting of the mind. Without fail it induced goose bumps along the hero's arms and neck. "_But your reaction makes it worth it._"

Link sighed, rolled his eyes, and looked at the village around him. Many of the Skyloftians were outside, talking to each other and taking in the cool autumn day. Kukiel was running around with her mother futilely trying to catch her, whereas Gully was still and seemed enamored with _something_ on a tree, probably a woodland rhino beetle. Link noticed that, at times, some of the villagers who were talking to each other would glance over at him a concerned look on their face, and then go back to whispering. Gossip had already begun to spread. That, or the villagers were concerned with seeing their savior in his knight's outfit two days in a row and carrying an unfamiliar weapon. Whenever someone made eye contact, Link made sure wave and smile at them warmly. Every time he did this, his neighbor appeared more at ease, as if peace in Hyrule Village was assured simply by his genuine greeting.

But this peace seemed a little too good to be true at the moment. A contemplative look adorned the younger male's features, and he thought intently to his incidental companion: "_Why aren't you showing yourself?"_

There was a long pause. Link swallowed nervously, but then he heard the hesitant reply. _"Do you want me to?"_

"No!"Link blurted out-loud, earning a few looks from the people. His cheeks turned beet red as the demon's chuckle floated through his thoughts. The teen ruffled his free hand through his hair. "I, er, realized I forgot to tell Zelda something important this morning, sorry." His stammering lie seemed to convince his neighborhoods enough, as they went back to their prior conversations. Crisis averted, he mentally continued his prior reasoning._ "I just don't understand why you aren't terrorizing the villagers."_

The white-haired demon hummed pleasantly, as if pondering—a farce Link saw through immediately.

"_They are of no interest to me."_

It took all of Link's will power to not snort upon hearing that. His mental voice laced with monotone cynicism, Link inquired, _"Oh, and I am?"_

"_Of course you are," _Ghirahim purred. Link's blush from half a minute prior returned with a vengeance.

Link stopped at the threshold of the new sparring hall. At Eagus' insistence, it was built as an exact copy of his old sparring hall, now abandoned in Skyloft. The large double doors, decorated with an image of a shield, towered over Link. Though he would never admit it to the demon, Link had actually been planning on sword practice since he woke up that morning. It was true that, in part, Link didn't want to leave the blade alone in his house for fear of what the demon was still capable of doing in his current state, but he had also really missed the sensation of a sword in his hand. Additionally, the fact that it was Ghirahim that he would be swinging around, whacking into Eagus's practice logs, was a little too cathartic to pass up.

Pulling one of the doors open, Link slipped inside the sparring hall.

"Eagus?" Link called out, not seeing the man anywhere in his line of vision. A yell of "Just a moment!" came from towards the back of the hall, behind the door of the room that, in the original sparring hall, held the practice sword Link borrowed (and eventually misplaced) in order to rescue his Loftwing in time for the Wing Ceremony. That ceremony seemed so long ago to Link, because it was overshadowed by the journey he undertook shortly after its completion, and subsequently the carefree, lackadaisical youth he was back then seemed to be so much more younger than he actually was.

Link was brought out of his nostalgic musings when the door he had been looking at abruptly opened, and Eagus came striding through it, carrying some practice logs.

"Care to help me set these up?" Eagus inquired, and Link nodded, starting to loosen his grip on the hilt. He couldn't help but grin when he felt a small sense of alarm radiating from the sword spirit.

"_Don't you _dare _dr—"_ at that moment, Link let go of the sword, and it planted into the dirt floor. Link couldn't help but snigger, and Eagus raised his brow at that.

"Where'd you find that one?"

"Long story," Link replied as he wrapped his arms around one of the logs and moved it to where the knight commander directed.

After a few minutes of setting up the logs with Eagus, Link went to retrieve the sword he had—intentionally—carelessly discarded. Immediately upon reconnecting with the weapon, he detected a carefully-contained rage emanating within it.

"_You try my patience, sky child," _Ghirahim warned. Link smiled at how the tables had turned.

"_If you're as helpless as you claim, what are you going to do about it?_"

"_Do you really need to ask, _Master_?"_

Link's smile promptly turned into a scowl. With that kind of inner commentary, this was going to be a long training session.


	4. Caged Wolf

Chapter 4: Caged Wolf

Sweat dripped from the hero's brow. The dark blade tore through the air, slicing one of the suspended logs in twine. The wood clattered against the dirt floor.

"_Sloppy._"

Angrily gripping the hilt in both hands, Link swung at another one of the practice logs. Despite the hero's show of strength, the blade wavered mid-swing. The log broke, but its cut was uneven.

"_Your form is still off._"

Link turned to the last log, its target on its front, standing. Link adjusted his wrists, pointing the blade away from him with the sharp edge of the weapon perpendicular to the ground beneath him. Stepping forward to give himself momentum, Link stabbed the log in front of him. It gave way, the two pieces falling, but Link stumbled forward as soon as the log ceased to give his attack any resistance.

"_You've never used a two-handed blade, have you?"_

"_So?" _Link bit his lip as he mildly fumed at the sword spirit, too exhausted to put too much effort into a proper glare.

"_The sooner you stop trying to use me exactly as you used your last sword, the better. That's all."_ Link sighed, walked to the wall, and, this time, _gently_ leaned the sword against the wall. The brunet had little energy to argue with an irate demon lord, and he was sure that if the egotistical individual put his mind to it, he could give the hero a headache for hours. Out of the corner of his eye, Link noticed Eagus approaching him tentatively.

"Getting the hang of your new sword?" Eagus handed the eighteen-year-old a towel. With a smile and a nod, Link accepted it and began to run it along his forehead and the back of his neck.

"Kind of. He's weighted completely differently than Fi was; I feel like I'm spending more time unlearning than learning," Link laughed, desperately trying to remain pleasant and not let Ghirahim influence his attitude around his neighbors. But Eagus looked puzzled, and just as Link was about to ask "what's wrong," Eagus spoke again:

"'He'?"

Link flushed ever so slightly at the slip. Because of Zelda's request, he had wanted to keep Ghirahim a secret. Additionally, it wasn't a stretch to think that if he had accidentally let the demon's name slip—or even if Ghirahim chose to show himself—that Eagus would be alarmed. In the months following Demise's downfall and during the Skyloftians' reconstruction on and repopulation of the Surface, Link, Zelda, and Groose had told and retold many of the details surrounding their adventures. Ghirahim, in particular, had been mentioned by all three. "Fiercely deadly," he had been called by Zelda. "Arrogant creep," by Link. "Stupid jerk," by Groose. With three different perspectives, some backed with more experiences and much more vivid than the others, the villagers had a fairly clear picture painted in their mind of someone they did not want to encounter.

Simply put, Link knew it would be a mistake to be completely honest with Eagus at this moment.

"It just seemed appropriate, I guess." Link scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, laughing anxiously. Fortunately for Link, his reluctant response could be read easily as embarrassment as well as a lie. But because of the hero's reputation, the former interpretation was the conclusion Eagus drew. He smiled at Skyloft's hero.

"Up for another set?"

"I think that's enough for now." Link returned Eagus' smile. "Thank you, Eagus." Without being prompted, Link began to lift some of the split logs onto his shoulders and return them to the back room, where the sword instructor would glue them back together again.

"No problem! And I guess it's been a while for you—wouldn't want to push it." The older man nodded appreciatively at the teen and followed his lead. As Link gripped the dry blocks of wood, he could feel pieces of debris jostling loose, brushing against his fingers, and then falling to the dirt floor. It made him wonder how many times one of these logs had to be split before Eagus had a new one carved. Even though trees were much more plentiful on the Surface than on the islands of the Sky, Link figured Eagus would wait until he was unable to fix them anymore. "Old habits die hard," after all.

After all the logs had been tucked away in the back room, Link made his way back to the sword reclining against the wall. As he approached, its edge gleamed as if it were reflecting a passing ray of light, but the blade was not in direct sunlight from the few windows. The unnatural shimmer seemed to be some sort of acknowledgement or greeting to the knight. Link merely sighed.

Link gripped the blade's hilt in his hand once more, and his tired muscles protested the weight of the blade after that workout. A grimace found its way onto his countenance. The boy turned back to face his former instructor.

"Eagus," Link started, carefully. He could feel the sword spirit's interest pique at this reluctant behavior. "You don't happen to have a spare sheath lying around that might work for this broadsword, do you?" Link wasn't sure _how_, but he could actually sense that Ghirahim smirked at his inquiry.

"Well," the man hummed thoughtfully, glancing, unfocused, at the ceiling. "It has a very peculiar shape, so I don't have anything suitable for it. Although," Eagus' eyes switched their gaze to Link. "I'm sure Gondo would be able to construct something for ya if you brought him the right materials."

Link nodded. "I'll go see Gondo, then. Thank you."

"Hey, it's no problem. See you later, Link."

"See you." With that, Link left the sparing hall.

Outside it was bright, the sun slightly past its peak position in the sky, and Link had to squint his eyes in order to adjust to the abrupt change in lighting. The wind was blowing brown leaves through the village's streets. A few buildings down, the smell of pumpkin soup wafted from the Lumpy Pumpkin's chimney, reminding and teasing the hero that he should eat. But he was distracted from this thought by the presence that ever demanded that he not be ignored or forgotten.

"_Planning on keeping me now, are you?_" his velvety voice crooned, sounding much too amused with the circumstances.

"_Shut it._" Link grit his teeth as he walked, and he was thankful for the fact that the street was rather empty since most of the villagers were indoors for lunch.

"_No, I don't believe I will,_" he returned, coolly. Link exhaled deeply.

"_Why do you insist on irritating me?_" the almost eighteen-year-old retorted, rhetorically. As earlier, he felt Ghirahim smile at that.

"_Personal gratification," _his voice murmured. But Link jumped and flushed when he heard his adversary _giggle_, of all noises._ "You're like a growling puppy when you're frustrated. It's positively adorable."_

Link's blush deepened as he glowered.

"_You're only proving my point right now, you know. Red is very becoming on you," _Ghirahim resumed.

"Especially when it's my blood, right?" Link grumbled aloud, just as he entered the marketplace. He turned in the direction of Gondo's workshop.

"_Well, I didn't say that," _Ghirahim returned smoothly. Link's only reply was to tilt his head slightly downward and glance at the blade from the corners of his eyes. _"Not today, anyways," _Ghirahim continued quickly. That mental smirk Link could sense irked him.

Mental silence fell between the two for several moments as Link walked. The hero saw a few of the villagers around here: Gully was attempting to climb a tree, and when he followed the boy's gaze, he saw that there was a stag beetle on one of the branches. Peater was just leaving the Item Check, a worried look cemented on his features. Rumor had it that Peatrice had her sights on another guy, and Peater hadn't been sleeping well for the past couple weeks as a result. Peatrice, though, looked giddier than Link had ever seen her, and he was glad that she bounced back after he declined her advances.

The demon lord sighed emphatically.

"_Is this all you do now? Walk around, mingle with people, and muse about village gossip?" _Link didn't think his adversary could mask the disdain in his tone even if he tried.

"_That, and nature walks."_

"_How quaint."_

"_The biggest threats the village has are the chuchus and keese that occasionally wander in. Otherwise it's calm here."_

"_So I'll be used for pest control. Wonderful."_

Link rolled his eyes.

"_You're the one who begged to be my sword."_

"_I _did not _beg," _Ghirahim growled. Link tried not to smile. The level of frustration he could feel radiating from the demon only seemed to prove his honesty when he said he wouldn't be able to attack Link. All bark and no bite. If Link was a "growling puppy," then certainly Ghirahim was a caged wolf. But the white-haired demon finished his train of thought with a sigh: "_But it is better than nothing, I suppose."_

Link finally reached the threshold of Gondo's workshop. Scarcely larger than a shack, the outside of it was very simple but sturdy. It had two small windows in the front, just big enough to let a decent amount of light in. Its metal door was heavy and had no discernible handle or knob, though there was a peculiarly shaped hole for some kind of key. Under the awning of the door hung a simple brass bell with a string at eye-level. Link noted that the bell itself had been lowered since he last saw it. He figured that Gondo must have recently—finally—heeded the numerous complaints of people being unable to reach the string and ring the bell due to not matching or exceeding Gondo's towering height. Link tugged on the thread; the clanging of brass striking brass resounded. The sound died out, and there was a small stillness. Shortly thereafter, a clanking could be within the door—a lock unfastening—and it very slowly eased open. Link stepped inside.

Shelves stocked with various tools and trinkets lined the walls of Gondo's workshop. A cluttered workbench stood before Link, and Gondo sat behind it. Link could tell that as the door opened, the mechanic looked up from the mechanism with which he was tinkering. With a grin, the boisterous giant greeted the hero:

"Hey! Link, how's it goin'?"

"Good afternoon, Gondo." Link smiled at the friend who had helped him so much throughout his journey, although always for a fair price. "It's going."

"Long night?"

"Something like that."

Ghirahim sighed in Link's head over the small talk.

"How've you been doing?" Link asked.

"I'm great. 'S incredible how plentiful everything is down here. Can never be bored with all these materials for makin' things." Gondo grasped his knuckles in his other hand until a satisfying crack emanated from the joints. Similarly, he rolled his shoulders and strained his neck until the same sort of pop came forth. "What can I do for ya?"

"I was wondering if you could make me a sheath for this." Link held up the dark blade a little higher so Gondo could get a better look. A thin line of light reflected off of the sword's sharp edge, and Gondo whistled.

"Since when have ya had it?"

"I found it last night."

"_Oh, I'm not a 'him' anymore? I'm hurt."_

"_I'm trying not to draw attention to you. Don't you either."_

"_Getting a little bossy now, are we?"_

Link pursed his lips, grateful that Gondo seemed to be enamored in the craftsmanship, as it were, of the weapon for the moment at least. But probably not for long.

"_Please."_

Ghirahim's chuckle ran through Link's head.

"_Who's the beggar now?"_

Link tried not to outwardly frown. While he hated losing, ignoring Zelda's request would be a bigger loss. Additionally, as much as he wanted to just rid himself of the control-freak of a demon, he knew he shouldn't do so without consulting Zelda's opinion first.

"_Me. Now _please_ stay quiet_._"_

"_I suppose I can heed such a humble request."_

Link exhaled a little more audibly than he intended. _"Thank you._"

Ghirahim only replied with a pleasant hum, and then fell silent.

After Gondo finished inspecting the blade visually, he reached out his hand and cocked his head to the side a little. "May I?"

"Of course," Link obliged, resting the hilt in one hand and the flat of the blade in the other as he held Ghirahim out to Gondo. He took the sword gingerly. As he did so, Link could instantly feel a break in the connection he had with Ghirahim, not too unlike when he lost Fi during the Eldin Volcano eruption during his adventure. He felt relieved to have the privacy of his thoughts to himself again.

"I can see why ya want a sheath. It's a bit heavy to be carryin' around without one. Weird that there wasn't one with it when ya found it, though." Link shrugged and waited for Gondo to continue. "I think I can fix one up for ya, as long as ya got plenty of Eldin ore, a few dusk relics, a couple of evil crystals, and a goddess plume."

Link began rummaging through his adventure pouch for the aforementioned items. As his hand brushed against the various cool textures of the materials, he recalled how during the course of his adventure, he'd have to run back to an old location just to grab a few more tumbleweeds, or how his heart would pound as he'd grab every dusk relic he saw in the Silent Realms. Towards the end of his journey, though he had upgraded his gear entirely, he still kept all the treasure he found. He ended up having it in abundance, so he easily had enough to give Gondo.

Link laid out the requested ore, relics, crystals, and plume in front of him. The plume, particularly, seemed to glimmer whether or not natural or artificial light caressed its feathers, quite unlike the forlorn glow of a dusk relic or evil crystal. But when he looked up again at Gondo, he noticed that the craftsman had a peculiar expression on his face, almost a little bewildered.

"Is something wrong?"

"It's…nah, don't worry about it. I must've stayed up too late last night, I'm hearin' things," the larger man chuckled as he gently set the sword down on his work bench.

"Oh?" Link laughed nervously, glaring a little at the dark weapon once Gondo looked away.

"Yeah, it's fine. Anyway, it should take me a few hours to finish this, since I'm makin' it from scratch instead of just modifyin' somethin' ya already have," Gondo explained, starting to sketch out a blueprint of the scabbard.

"That's fine—still unbelievably fast. How much?"

"Lay a gold one on me." Link blinked a few times at the suggestion to cough up three hundred rupees. "It's a big job," Gondo insisted. Link smiled at that and more willingly placed the large, gold rupee on the table. While he didn't come across a lot of the currency as frequently as he did during his adventure, Link still had quite a bit. Gondo grinned at the large denomination and pocketed it. "Thank ya kindly. I'll see ya later, Link."

"Later," the hero echoed. Right after he stepped outside, the heavy door shut behind him.

As he walked into the center of the marketplace, yellow leaves crinkled and crunched beneath his boots. The autumn breeze tickled the back of his neck, and Link could hear villagers chatting off in the distance, as well as someone—probably Peater—chopping wood for the winter.

"_What now?_" Link thought, rather thankful for the dead silence he had in reply. He would have a few hours of peace before he had to pick Ghirahim up again with his new sheath, and Zelda, likely, had yet to return home. Knowing her, Link figured that Zelda was meditating at the Lake Floria Waterfall, amongst the lily pads and the soothing, rushing water. He considered visiting her, to get his mind off of the demon who had been invading his thoughts all morning.

His stomach rumbled.

"I guess it's time to eat," he mused as he made a beeline for the Lumpy Pumpkin.


End file.
